


Be Still With Me

by Hannah_BWTM



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Bad Touch, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Explicit Sexual Content, Kidnapping, Lessons, M/M, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:34:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25508290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannah_BWTM/pseuds/Hannah_BWTM
Summary: John has been waiting for his moment to teach Malcolm the most important lesson in the education of his disciple. He feels the time is right, and for Malcolm to truly accept his calling he needs his old team mates to see it.All the set pieces are prepared and ready to be assembled, and it's only a matter of time before Malcolm will declare himself to be John's forever.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright & Paul Lazar | John Watkins
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	Be Still With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to those on the Trash server who helped to dream up this little scenario, I hope I've done it justice.   
> Big thanks to Tess who helped whip this story into shape and take it to the next level.

John leaned back in the folding chair positioned in the centre of the room, admiring his handiwork. He’d had to spend precious time away from Malcolm to pull all the pieces together, but he knew that this next step was important to Malcolm’s education, and would lead to the inevitable acceptance of his life’s true calling.

John’s new mission was only in its infancy, he had only been teaching Malcolm for five weeks. Thirty-seven days of lessons and discipline. He had to admire Malcolm’s resistance to his godly teachings, and blessed the Lord for giving Malcolm such strength. Malcolm was strong, to be sure, but when John noticed his retorts had lost their bite and the sighs of acceptance grew ever more prevalent, he knew that the time had come to move on to the next phase of his teachings.

A phase that would show Malcolm just how far he’d come. And show his family how much he was now John’s. 

The building had been easy enough to rent with a fake name, and some purchases at Home Depot and Walmart had turned an empty shell of a warehouse into a classroom fit for his disciple.

The rest of the class had been a bit trickier to obtain.

Five weeks had been long enough to see the scaling back of the man hunt against him, at which point his targets had become easier to track and eventually subdue. He’d taken the big one first, a swift knock to the head outside a pool hall and down he went. The woman was next, a feisty little thing he grabbed on her way home from the gym. She knew some decent defensive moves but they were no match for his brute force. The two of them glared at him now with duct-taped mouths, chained to a pipe running across the wall and sitting on the newly installed foam floor. Their arms had nowhere to go thanks to the thick rubber that encased the chains connecting them to the pipe. It was important to his lesson that they make as little noise as possible. On the opposite side of the room lay their boss, one Gil Arroyo, his hands bound in the same way as his precious detectives. 

The Lieutenant had been the last one on his list of students. Breaking into his ancient car was easy for a mechanic like him, and all he had to do was wait in the backseat, wrap his thick arm around the man’s neck and wait for unconsciousness to take him.

Now he just needed the man to wake up.

John mumbled to himself as he watched for signs of life. “Come on, Lieutenant, I have places to be and people to see.” His patience worn out he clomps over to Arroyo and kicks him in the stomach. He’s rewarded for his efforts with a groan from the man in front of him, limbs slowly checking in with their owner as they are dragged back into consciousness.

Arroyo manages to lift his head groggily and scan the room, his eyes widening in horror when he recognises John’s face.

“Watkins?”

“Lieutenant Arroyo, so nice of you to join us. I hope you don’t mind that I’ve borrowed you and your team for a little while, but you see I have a very important lesson for all of you. I shouldn’t take up too much of your time.”

“My team? What do you mean?” Gil squinted in the poor light to try and get his bearings.

“Your detectives, I’ve grabbed them too. Welcome to my classroom!” John exclaims.

“What? No, what are you-“

“You were all so busy searching for your precious little Malcolm that you forgot to protect yourselves. And now you are here to join me in the next step in Malcolm’s education.”

“Malcolm! Is he here?” Gil pushes himself up on his fists to get a better look in the room, and ends up with a backhand for his efforts, crashing back into the foam mat.

John guffaws at his optimism. “Awww, he’s not here yet. I needed to make sure everything was perfect. And now you’re here, we’re so close. Malcolm has a lesson to learn today, and you’ll learn one as well.”

“Whatever you’ve done to him, he’s stronger than you think.” Gil replies. John answers him with a shrug.

“Oh he _was_ strong, but the Malcolm you knew is gone. Only my disciple exists now. And after today he will accept his life by my side. And you will help him do that.”

“Like hell we’ll help you.” Gil’s voice is dripping with venom.

John looks down and grins. “All I need you to do is watch. Now, if you’ll excuse me, we’re missing one more student.” John exits the room and locks the door behind him.

“Not long now, little Malcolm. Soon we’ll be free.”

************************************

The bone chilling cold never really went away, despite the little portable heater plugged in on the opposite side of the room. Malcolm didn’t know if it was all in his head or if it was just that cold where he’d been trapped for god knows how long. There were no blankets in the room, and the thin mat on the floor did nothing to trap the warmth. His current attire of sweat pants and a hoodie courtesy of John’s wardrobe hung on him like an oversized snuggie, and did nothing to keep the meagre warmth trapped against his skin.

He’d been kept in the same empty room in the cabin for weeks, held in place by a thick chain around his waist that was bolted to the wall. His very own tether, just like his father. The handcuffs didn’t get worn all the time, lately as Malcolm grew tired and more agreeable to John’s ministrations, he’d found himself being forced into them less and less.

The chain was cold and made every position Malcolm tried to sit in uncomfortable. John keeps telling him the chain is a reminder of his lack of faith in their mission, a punishment that will cease when he finally agrees to become John’s disciple. It was a load of shite. Malcolm had no idea where he was, but he knew that because he was above ground the danger of being heard by someone was non-existent. Even if he could make it out of the cabin he’d likely have nowhere to run to for help.

The real reason for the chain was that it gave Malcolm nowhere to run when John turned his attention towards his person. What started as small pats, not unlike how you would treat a pet, soon turned into something more. Malcolm guessed he had been in the cabin two weeks when John first tried to kiss him, that time the handcuffs made it impossible for him to push back. He refused to submit and let John in, and the beatings that followed made sleeping virtually impossible for days after.

Bit by bit he had trained himself not to react as John explored further and longer each time, knowing that resisting him only made it worse for himself. He’d learned now to stand silently when John gave the signal, to close his eyes and start playing Beethoven’s Sixth in his head when he felt the tickle of John’s whiskers against his own overgrown stubble. The strings kept him company when calloused and dry hands slipped below the soft waistband of his ill-fitting sweat pants. The harmonies from the horns helped him float away while greedy hands groped his cock, followed the curve of his ass and teased his rim, and helped to tune out the mumblings John whispered into his ears.

John hadn’t forced himself on Malcolm just yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time before it happened. And he was so tired these days, so numb from all the talking and the fondling that he didn’t know what he would do when that day came. His body ached for gentle human contact, but to receive it at the hands of John pulled at the frayed edges of his psyche, as he tried to balance his wants and wishes against those of his captor. 

He’d had some respite in the last few days, when John had walked in with a large water bottle and a few packets of crackers he knew that John wouldn’t be returning for a while. John always made sure that he had enough water, and didn’t force him to eat foods that upset his stomach. Malcolm had to be thankful for that, he figured.

By his best guess of the sunlight entering through the window he’d been alone for about three days, and the crackers and water were all gone. Malcolm watched the window’s shadow track slowly across the room, it had made it across four planks of wood since he’d taken his last swig of water.

He was going to need more, and soon.

Malcolm heard the door to the cabin open two floor planks later. He lifted himself up on to the balls of his feet, ready to follow John when he signaled to Malcolm to stand. A punch to the head would be his prize if he refused.

He tried to ignore the rolling wave of nausea that seemed to accompany him following John’s instructions, a part of his brain noting that its presence lingers a little bit less every time he obeys.

The door to his room opened and John stood there for a moment, admiring Malcolm’s submissive form before him. Grinning, he held his palm out flat and raised his fingers up towards the ceiling. Malcolm pushes off the ground and stood to face John, swaying slightly as unused muscles protested the sudden movement. Malcolm met John’s eyes, waiting for what comes next.

“My little Malcolm! How have we been since I left?”

Malcolm chooses not to answer.

“Alright, you don’t wanna tell me what you got up to, that’s fine. I have a surprise for you, here you go!” John reaches behind him and pulls out a blindfold.

Malcolm narrows his eyes and tilts his head. “And what is that for?”

“It’s for you to wear, dummy. We’re going on a trip!”

Malcolm’s heart starts to beat a little faster.

“Where are we going?”

“Well I can’t tell you that, Malcolm, it would ruin the surprise! Let’s just say that we’re going somewhere that’s important to your education.”

“My education? We’re still talking about this? I’m not following you anywhere.”

The slap is swift and hard.

“Listen here, my little Malcolm. I have worked very hard to set up this lesson and you _will_ be attending. So, you can either put this blindfold on and we’ll take a nice drive together _or_ I will whip you within an inch of your life, and then we’ll take a drive. Your choice.”

There is no choice. Even when his brain is foggy from the slap and exhaustion, he’s seen John’s anger and knows that today, in this moment, he just can’t face another beating. Malcolm sighs and reaches out for the blindfold. John’s grin returns, and he lifts his hand to cup Malcolm’s face and pull him into a chaste kiss.

“That’s my boy.”

John clasps the handcuffs on to his wrists before affixing the blindfold over Malcolm’s eyes. He knows he could take it off at any time, and yet a part of him doesn’t want to think about what would happen if he did. What John would do if he disappointed him.

It’s just easier this way, right? Easier not to disappoint John. Maybe John did know what was best for him, Malcolm couldn’t tell what was best for himself anymore.

There’s a clanking sound behind him as John unlocks the chain from the wall and picks it up. There’s pressure on the small of his back and John tugs on the chain to start Malcolm walking out of the cabin. Malcolm shuffles slowly, at John’s complete mercy until they reach a vehicle. The hand on his back gave him a sense of safety as his aching muscles creaked back into use for the first time in weeks. John wouldn’t let him fall.

“Okay little Malcolm, we’re here. Watch your step, now” John speaks softly as he pushes behind Malcolm’s knee and guides his leg into some sort of vehicle. There’s a bit of awkward maneuvering as the two men figure out how to get Malcolm seated while he’s blindfolded, but they manage it eventually. There’s a large screeching noise as the door slides shut and the vehicle rocks as John climbs into the driver’s seat.

“Alright! Let’s get going. We’re gonna be so much closer by the end of the day, just you wait.”

Malcolm had a feeling he knew what that meant, and he hoped he was wrong. As they start rolling down the road the beginning of the second movement from Beethoven’s Sixth plays in his mind. The andante tempo of the cellos and violas lull his tired mind to sleep, and despite the uncertainty surrounding what was to come Malcolm found himself drifting off to sleep.

The first movement in this symphony had finished. Who knows what awaited for him in the second. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this story come and join us over on the [PSon Trash](https://discord.gg/p3K3twh) (18+) server on Discord.


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